


domesticity is a work in progress

by picturecat



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Baking, Banter, Cats, Cleaning, Domestic, Established Relationship, Established Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Exhaustion, Hurt Steve Rogers, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Minor Injuries, Steve Rogers's Motorcycle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23726407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/picturecat/pseuds/picturecat
Summary: Every relationship has its share of stressors. As superheroes, Steve and Tony's relationship has more than its fair share of major, potentially devastating challenges.This isn't about those.(A series of short, self-contained works, generally under 1000 words, focused on established Steve/Tony.)
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 32
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn’t a gentle catch.

Tony just barely got ahold of him, both hands digging into his forearm, and although Tony tried to swoop with Steve’s momentum, the catch was far from smooth. Steve’s shoulder jarred so fiercely he could hear it groan. He gritted his teeth against the fiery ache in his shoulder socket even as he strained the muscle to leverage himself closer to Tony.

“You know I have a heart condition,” Tony said, his voice clear over the comms.

Steve grinned a little. “Thanks for the catch.”

Tony got a hand around his waist and hauled him in closer, so Steve could grip onto the armor with one arm. “A little warning would have been nice. Just a thought.”

Tony flew them upwards, spiraling above the flaming building that Steve had taken a running leap out of.

“Technically I think I warned you about a seventh of a second before I jumped.” Steve said. “How far out is Damage Control?”

“Twenty minutes, and just for that, you’re not getting laid tonight.”

“Darn,” Steve said placidly. He let his head thump against the helmet of the armor.

“You do not sound nearly disappointed enough about that,” Tony said.

“Well, you don’t believe in kicking me out of bed. So I still get to sleep next to you. That’s what I really want just now.”

Tony was silent for a few seconds. He cleared his throat. “How’s your shoulder?” he asked.

Steve tested it, working his jarred shoulder gingerly. “Feels like a sprain,” he grimaced. “Not too bad though.”

“Still, we’d better get that checked out,” Tony said, and changed course for the Tower. “It might need a sling. Hold on, I’m gonna radio the others. We can put our reports in later.”

In the meantime, Steve closed his eyes and enjoyed the flight.

When they touched down on the landing pad, one of the physicians Tony kept on call for the Avengers was waiting. She pulled out a clipboard while Tony stepped out of the suit.

“It’s your right shoulder, correct?” she asked. Steve nodded. “Mr. Stark, please help him remove the upper part of his costume. I need to have a look.”

Tony stepped closer and didn’t even joke about stripping Steve, gingerly maneuvering the fabric around his shoulder and over his head.

“That’s a sprain, yeah,” the doctor said, peering at it. “Captain, would you rotate your shoulder please?”

She had him work through a few more motions, and asked him about the pain level each time, occasionally pressing gently on the swelling area.

On his left, Tony could not have appeared less interested. He was tapping away on his phone with a distant little frown, not sparing a glance for either Steve or the doctor.

But his right hand was linked with Steve’s, their fingers intertwined and resting on Steve’s thigh. Tony's thumb stroked quietly against his skin, a small, unconscious sort of movement.

Steve smiled.

“Alright, looks like you’ve got a class one acromioclavicular ligament sprain,” the doctor said. “I know you heal faster than most, but the usual standards apply. Sling, ice, ibuprofen, and plenty of rest.”

“Yes ma’am,” Steve said. Tony rolled his eyes.

“I’ll make sure he rests, Doctor,” Tony assured. Steve snorted.

If the doctor seemed at all skeptical, she didn’t show it. She gathered her supplies and left in the elevator, nodding as the doors closed.

“You know the only way you’re getting me to rest is if you do, too,” Steve said, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Tony pulled an ice pack out of the freezer, wrapping it in a dish towel. “I know,” he said, unconcerned. “I rescheduled a few things. We’re taking it easy for the next week.”

Tony settled the ice pack on Steve’s swollen shoulder. Steve hissed a little at the feeling, at the bite of cold numbing the pain.

Tony took his hand again and squeezed it in both of his. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know how to catch people without hurting them, I was just sloppy. I’ll do better.”

Steve sighed, affection swelling like a warm tide in his chest. Tony would do better, too. He’d probably spend half of their “easy” week working on some new way to automate the suit so that messy saves like that would go as smoothly as possible.

Some gentle sarcasm was in order.

“Yeah, you’d better,” Steve said, smiling. “Gosh, Tony, I really thought with a whole seventh of a second in warning you’d be perfectly prepared and positioned to save my life without jarring my shoulder.”

Tony huffed, eyes creasing with laughter. His head dropped to rest against Steve’s, his shoulders loosening. Steve leaned into the contact, and Tony’s hand stroked down the back of his neck, tender and warm. Between them, Tony’s hand tightened on his.

“Thank you for saving me,” Steve whispered.

Tony sighed. “Heart. Condition.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh good!” Tony said, in obvious relief. “You’re here. Help me, please, I’m just ruining them.”

Steve blinked at the kitchen. Every conceivable surface was covered in trays of cookies, and the smell of warm sugar was heavy and sweet in the air.

“You’re baking?” Steve asked, slipping his phone back into his pocket. When Tony had called him down to help with an emergency, he hadn’t imagined anything like this.

“It’s just a box mix, don’t look so surprised,” Tony said gruffly. “Even I can get that right.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Decorating,” Tony said, gesturing at the tray nearest him. Steve looked.

“First of all,” he said slowly, “that much icing is disgusting. Even to kids. Second, did you clear this with the hospital first?”

Tony waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, who do you take me for? Of course I did. It’s fine, it’s great, except for the fact that I cannot decorate these cookies and I need your help, Steve.”

Steve snorted. “Well, you’re no artist, that’s for sure. Is that supposed to be the Hulk?”

Tony gave him a sulky look.

Steve sat in the chair next to Tony. Tony’d certainly gotten every decorating tool he could possibly have needed for the task, even if he had no idea how to use them.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked, gazing around at the kitchen.

There were a lot of cookies.

“Avengers cookies,” Tony said. “Made especially for the kids of the St. Agnes Pediatric Cancer wing.”

Steve set to work quickly, drawing an Iron Man helmet with red and gold icing, then a Black Widow symbol, and then his shield. Tony watched, smiling wearily.

“How long have you been at this?” Steve asked, mixing together grey icing for Thor’s hammer.

“Oh, you know,” Tony grumbled. “A couple centuries. I never realized how stressful baking is– my feet are killing me.”

“You could have just ordered some from a bakery,” Steve said. “I’m sure someone would have been willing to do an express order this big.”

“I thought it would be nice if we made it especially for them. You know?” Tony sighed. “I’m starting to realize it would probably be just as special if Captain America and Iron Man bought cookies just for them.”

Steve nudged him. “Hey, this is a great idea. Okay? I bet if you asked the others for help we could have this done in no time.”

“They’d probably get a kick out of it,” Tony admitted. “Yeah, okay.”

Steve grinned and grabbed another cookie to decorate. “Go get the others. Tap out. Take a break.” He slid the cookie over to Tony. “This is a wonderful idea, Tony.”

Tony looked at the cookie. _I love you,_ it said in neat cursive.

He smiled and ducked down to kiss Steve on the cheek. Steve turned to catch him on the lips, deepening the kiss.

“Thank you,” Tony said.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve stared into the open, gaping abyss in front of him. At the edges of his vision he saw… objects– strange, lost things, totally unidentifiable in the all-encompassing gloom. He wanted nothing more than to stay far away from it all, but the things forgotten in that murky place couldn’t be allowed to let lie.

“Tony, we have to do something about this closet.”

Tony peered out of the bathroom. “Yeah, it’s kind of a disaster zone, isn’t it?” He winced.

“The light’s gone out,” Steve said, peering upwards.

Tony came out of the bathroom, scrubbing his hair with a towel. “Pretty sure there’s a spare on the top shelf.”

“What top shelf?” Steve gesticulated at the darkness. Tony squinted.

“Point. Okay, you know what, I’ll call a service.”

“No, oh my god,” Steve blurted. “I– Tony, you can’t even see the floor!”

“I don’t think we’ve seen the floor for at least three years, Steve,” Tony said, eyes flicking around the shadows. “This is clearly a job for professionals.”

“Tony,” Steve said, pained.

Tony leaned into him. “Steve. Look, we have so few days off. You really want to spend the day cleaning a closet?”

Steve squeezed his waist. “I think I might die of shame if someone else sees this. Why– we keep everything else clean, how did we let this get so bad?”

Tony shrugged. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

They both stared at the closet.

“Tony.”

Tony groaned. “Christ, I am so whipped. I cannot believe this.”

Steve grinned and turned to give Tony a kiss. “You’re not whipped,” he said. He stole another. “If you were whipped, I’d have gotten you to agree to do it by yourself.”

Tony grabbed Steve’s hands and held them up to his chest, staring at Steve with his eyes blue and honest. “Steve,” he said. “You are the love of my life. I would die for you–”

“You have died for me. I didn’t like it. Get me something else for our anniversary.”

“–but there is nothing in this universe that could compel me to clean that closet on my own.”

Steve tangled their hands together. “I wouldn’t leave you to face that by yourself anyway. Some things just aren’t meant for one person to handle alone.”

“Yeah, we know how to keep the romance alive,” Tony grinned. He dropped Steve’s hands with a kiss to his wedding ring, turning back to face the closet, and immediately grimaced. “Alright, Cap. What’s the strategy?”

“Garbage bags,” Steve replied. “Lots of ‘em. Heavy duty. One for trash, one for recycling, one for donating.”

“I can do that,” Tony said. “While I grab those, you’re in charge of cleaning music. Don’t disappoint me.”

“Radio hits from the 1930’s, coming right up.”

“A-ha!” Tony exclaimed. “Lightbulbs. Finally.”

He leaned dangerously from atop his stepladder (found underneath a shoebox of frayed wires– recyclable) to wave the box triumphantly in Steve’s face.

“Glory to god and peace on earth,” Steve said fervently, and dropped his flashlight (found balanced precariously on top of a sewing machine that had three belts wrapped around it but otherwise seemed perfectly serviceable– donate) to the ground with a heavy thunk.

Tony started stretching towards the ceiling, so Steve stood quickly to let Tony brace a hand on his shoulder. Light flooded the closet.

“Christ,” Tony said.

“I think I liked the dark better.”

“Why are there so many blankets?”

“Where?” Tony ducked out from under a rack of raincoats. “Oh. I bought those.”

Steve gestured helplessly. “Did you buy them in bulk from somewhere? There’s– at least forty blankets here, Tony.”

“I know,” Tony said, a little grumpily. “It was– we’d just started sleeping together and I was really, really convinced that maybe you didn’t like my blankets. I can’t remember why. So. Spare blankets.”

“Well, I guess I can’t complain,” Steve said, scratching the back of his head. “We’re gonna make a shelter somewhere very happy.”

“Steve, I’m not gonna make it.”

“Don’t give up on me now,” Steve said, absently holding up a suit jacket to study it. It had three bullet holes in the front, but those could be patched, and someone would have a use for it. He tossed it into the donate bag, which was hanging off of a lopsided hat rack.

“Tell Pepper I’m sorry I couldn’t survive until the board meeting next month. Tell Rhodey that I wrote him out of my will but his mother can have her pick of my cars. Tell Jarvis–”

“If you are planning on dying,” Steve scowled, “you can tell Jarvis your damn self, and I’ll let him set you straight.”

Tony winced.


	4. Chapter 4

“Steve.”

“I know.”

“It’s the sixth one.”

“I know!”

“We’re not even six months into the year!”

“I _know_ , Tony, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to destroy it.”

“Yeah, maybe _this_ time,” Tony scowled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What about—”

“I’ve apologized about using it as a bomb! It was just the most expedient way!”

“Expedient for _you_ , maybe,” Tony said waspishly. “Do you know how much they cost? And each time you break one I have to redesign it _again_ , in the apparently futile hope that the next one will last you more than a week.”

“This one lasted me three weeks.”

“…Am I supposed to be appreciating your restraint?” Tony asked incredulously. “Because I’m not really impressed.”

“No! I was just saying, I don’t think I’ve wrecked one in just a week since the _first_ one—”

“Most people at least _try_ to keep their motorcycles in one piece—”

“It’s not like I _mean_ to break them!”

“—and I really think you could maybe try to do that! Like, _once_. Just make one last for a _year,_ ” Tony finished, hands flailing.

They both went quiet for a moment, and Steve realized, guiltily, that Tony was looking quite haggard, his face pale and drawn and with heavy dark circles under his eyes.

Steve wondered if Tony’d slept at all while he was away. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Let me make it up to you?”

“No,” Tony said grumpily. He spun his chair around.

“Please?” Steve asked, coming around the chair. Tony made a displeased sound and picked up a tablet, holding it pointedly in front of his face.

Steve put a finger on the top of the tablet and pushed it down, gently, until he could see Tony’s unimpressed face.

“I am _very_ sorry,” Steve said, and leaned in and kissed Tony sweetly. “Let me prove it to you.”

“I don’t want your kisses, you motorcycle-wrecking menace,” Tony grumbled, but his shoulders released some of their tension. Steve kissed him again, licking teasingly at his lips, and Tony sighed.

“You’ll have to work for it,” Tony warned.

Steve grinned, triumphant. “It’ll be my pleasure.”


	5. Chapter 5

Steve rolled over, blearily aware of the soft noises that woke him. It was only Tony getting dressed, and Steve burrowed into the warm spot he left behind, burying his nose in Tony’s pillow. 

The blankets and the bed were cozy and warm. It was dark enough and cold enough outside the shelter of their bed that Steve felt no need to move or awaken fully, only a sort of petulant grouchiness at Tony’s absence. 

He startled awake when Tony’s hand touched his face. 

“Hey,” Tony murmured. 

Steve stretched, taking care to keep his feet under the blankets. “Morning,” he sighed. He covered Tony’s hand with his own and dragged it to his lips to kiss it. “You’re still going to those meetings? We just finished a mission.”

Tony smiled ruefully. “No rest for the wicked,” he said, and pressed a bristly kiss to Steve's forehead. 

“Well, in that case you definitely need to come back to bed,” Steve grumbled. “You're not supposed to face the wicked without backup anymore.”

“Pepper is my backup,” Tony assured him, smiling. “And now that she has the Rescue armor she can be my backup the other way, too.”

Steve made a grousing sort of sound, but he knew Pepper was better sorted to wrangling businessmen than he would ever be. 

Well. Save one specific businessman, of course.

“Anyway, sorry to wake you,” Tony added, stroking his hand back through Steve’s hair and settling it on his shoulder. “Just wanted to let you know I'll be gone in about 20 minutes, and I won't get back until 2 at least.”

Tony bent down to peck him on the lips, but Steve caught him by the tie and held him there, turning the kiss into something longer, smooth and warm and sweet. 

“You taste like toothpaste,” Steve smiled, releasing Tony’s tie. 

Tony’s eyes were brightly amused. “Go back to sleep.”

Steve yawned. “No,” he said, stretching. “I might as well wake up.” He swung his legs over the edge and sat up

Tony cut a sharp figure in his suit, all pressed neatness and angles and bespoke fitting. 

“I mussed your tie,” Steve said regretfully. Tony looked down at the crumpled fabric and deftly started to retie it. 

Steve stilled his hand. “No, let me.”

Tony stood in between Steve’s knees to let him fix it, and Steve focused on his task, on the smooth fabric and Tony’s warmth and musk and the little stretch of skin above Tony’s collar. 

“There,” he said, and patted the fabric flat. “It's not as fancy as you do it, but it's tied.”

“It's perfect,” Tony said, and stooped to kiss Steve again. 

Steve stood, Tony stepping away quickly, and stretched again. He kissed Tony on the cheek and stepped into their bathroom, which was still a little steamy and smelled of Tony’s aftershave. “Go put on the coffee,” he said. “I'll be out in a minute to make you eat something.”

“Yessir, darling,” Tony grinned, and left for the kitchen with a jaunty bounce in his step. 


	6. Chapter 6

"We were on a mission, Tony. Our lives were in danger."

"Yeah, because we've DEFINITELY never kissed while in danger. No sir, not us. Safety first," Tony drawled.

"I'm dating you, not Natasha."

"But I bet you liked it, didn't you? Come on, be honest, I won't get mad."

"It was a  _ diversion _ ."

"You keep saying that. Was she better than me?"

Steve's ears went hot. "No! It wasn't even— it wasn't a real kiss, I was focusing on other things at the time. Like getting out alive."

"Oh my god, she was."

"Tony," Steve groaned.

"Steve, I can change, my kisses can change, I can be better—"

"Under no circumstances should you change your kisses," Steve said firmly. The blush had spread from his ears to the rest of his face, and was now creeping down his neck.

Interesting.

Tony leaned in closer. "Are you sure?" he murmured.

That blush had to be all the way down Steve's chest by now. It certainly couldn't be getting any brighter.

"Yes, Tony," Steve said, with one of those goofy, fond little smiles on his face. "Why are you so focused on this anyway? It's not like you to be jealous."

"Yeah, but it's Natasha," Tony sniffed. "And I know for a fact that she looks better in lingerie than I do."

Steve reared back.  _ “What?” _

Tony paused. “Uh. Wait,” he said. 

“Please, do explain.”

“It wasn’t like  _ that _ ,” Tony said, watching mournfully as Steve’s blush receded into a squinty-eyed glare.

“How, exactly, do you know what Natasha looks like in lingerie?”

“We weren’t even dating at the time! We didn’t even  _ know _ each other. You can’t be  _ retroactively _ jealous.”

“Try and stop me.”


	7. Chapter 7

The world is going to hell in a handbasket when Steve finally, finally calls. Tony jolts awake on his work desk and groans, fumbling for his phone. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the crumpled chest plate of his armor—he was supposed to be fixing it. It’s the third suit he’s gone through this week, and if another call comes in before he can get it fixed up, Tony will be going out in jet boots and not much more.

Finally he manages to accept the call. “Yeah?” he says into the phone, and then clears his throat. His voice is surprisingly rough.

There’s a heavy pause. “You alright?” Steve asks. “You sound rough.”

Tony gives a sound that’s not quite a snort of amusement, dragging a hand up his face and rubbing at his eyes. “Can’t say I’m surprised,” he says, glancing at his watch. Four hours. That’s the best sleep he’s gotten since this whole mess started.

Steve sighs over the line. “We’re just wrapping up over here. I wanted to hear you.”

Hope flares in Tony’s chest. “Yeah? I gonna see you soon?”

There’s a long, staticky sigh and some shuffling noises. “No,” Steve says finally, and he sounds worn down to nothing. “No, there’s a—there’s a situation, broke out about 30 minutes ago. We’re shipping out as soon as we’re done here.”

“Shit, is this the Taipei thing?” Tony says, pulling up his monitors. “God, I knew that was gonna go up in flames. Thought that Hydra’s little shitfest in Baltimore would blow up first, though.”

“It did,” Steve says, sounding as exhausted as Tony feels.

Tony takes a second to absorb that. “Shit,” he says. God, this is what he gets for napping.

“Yeah,” Steve says. Tony hears distant shouting over Steve’s end of the line, and Steve sighs again. “I gotta go soon, Tony.”

That’s an unexpected lump in Tony’s throat. His eyes burn, and he rubs at them again. “Jesus. Who do I need to sue to see you for a few hours?” he says weakly, and his voice has gone rough again.

Steve goes quiet. “When this is over…” he trails off, uncharacteristically hesitant.

Honestly, Tony’s starting to think this will never be over. It seems like all of their enemies have crawled out of the woodwork to make a concerted effort at wiping the Avengers off the face of the planet—and they’re not overly concerned if they take out actual chunks of the planet in the process.

“When this is over—“ Steve starts again, and then huffs, which, okay. That’s officially odd.

“Steve?” Tony prompts, brow furrowed.

“Marry me,” Steve says.

Tony blinks. “What?”

Steve huffs again, and in that moment Tony can clearly imagine his face—the downward sweep of his eyelashes, the self-deprecating twist to his lips, the strong line of his jaw. “Marry me,” he says again. “We could—have a small ceremony, just friends, and then take a few weeks, you and me. And then after that we would just… be together.”

“Are you saying this because you miss me?” Tony asks numbly.

“No, I’m saying this because I love you,” Steve says, stern.

Tony shakes his head. “Sorry, that came out wrong. Let me rephrase:  _ yes. _ ”

“Yes?” Steve repeats.

“ _ Yes,” _ Tony insists. “Yes, before you regain your sanity. Yes, no take-backs. Holy shit,  _ Steve _ .”

“No take-backs,” Steve agrees, and Tony can hear the brilliance of his smile even over the phone, even over all the miles between them.


	8. Chapter 8

“Yes, you are the most perfect creature on this plane of existence… Yes, you know it, don't you? Darling.”

Steve leaned in the threshold, watching Tony coo over the cat. Sassy, for her part, seemed to return Tony’s adoration. She was curled up on his chest, purring loudly. Every time Tony dared to stop petting her for a moment, she butted her head up against his face. 

“Should I be jealous?” Steve asked dryly, dropping his duffel bag with a thump. Tony started, twisting his head to see Steve. 

“Steve!” Tony exclaimed, but didn't move. 

Steve gestured. “This is the welcome I get, after two weeks gone?”

“Hah. Well.” Tony made a face. “I would get up, but I'm pinned,” he said, grimacing. 

“Pinned,” Steve repeated. 

“By a vicious animal,” Tony said earnestly. Sassy, insistent, rubbed her cheek against Tony’s chin. 

“Here, let me help you,” Steve grinned. He scooped Sassy up. She mewled reproachfully, twisting in his arms. 

“Steve,  _ no.  _ You've made her sad!”

“You always take the damn cat’s side,” Steve scowled, scritching Sassy under her chin. She gave him a baleful slit-eyed look, but settled against his chest. 

Tony stood, stretched enormously, and came around the couch to stand in front of Steve. “Well, she is the love of my life,” he said, rubbing Sassy’s ears. 

“I see how it is,” Steve huffed. “I’ll just go find another away mission, shall I?”

Tony kissed him quickly. “Don't even think of it,” he said. “We’ll languish without you here. I’ll go off my feed.”

“You’ll go off your feed, huh? How is that different from when I'm here?”

Tony shrugged. “I'll be sad about it?”

“Well, can't have that.” Steve gave Sassy one last scritch and let her down so he could close the space between him and Tony. “Don't be sad,” he said, and drew their lips together. 

Tony’s mouth was warm. He tasted like coffee and his lips caught dryly against Steve’s. Everything about him, from the wiry press of his body to the metallic scent of his skin to the way he kissed Steve— soft and slow and deep and not so much a series of kisses, but a single kiss that he regrettably had to catch breaths for— felt like being welcomed home. 

The last of his tension evaporated as Tony’s hands came up to his neck, kneading at the base of his skull. It felt so damn good it sent tingles all up and down his spine. Steve moaned low in his throat and broke the kiss to lean into Tony, suddenly boneless. Tony supported him without complaint. 

“Missed this,” he admitted. He stroked a hand up and down Tony’s back. 

“We missed you too.” Tony kissed his cheek. “I have to admit you can’t be entirely replaced by a cat.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Well, you know. Cat doesn’t leave wet towels on the floor.”

“She shits in a box.”

“And I have a robot that very helpfully cleans that box for me,” Tony said. He squeezed the back of Steve’s neck again, and Steve found it very hard to maintain his expression of annoyed incredulity. 

“But, you know,” Tony continued. “Neither Sassy nor my bots are as good at keeping my bed warm as you are. It’s not their fault. You’re just irreplaceable as a space heater-slash-body pillow.”

Steve huffed, stifling a chuckle in his throat. Tony fingers were rubbing very cleverly at the finicky muscles in the side of Steve’s neck, sending bright, conflicting pain/pleasure signals all up and down his spine. Steve groaned a little, feeling the tension in his neck resist Tony’s massage.

“Tell you what,” he said finally. “You come to bed with me and do this for another twenty minutes, and I’ll do you a favor and forget this whole conversation.”

Tony smiled, giving Steve’s neck another squeeze. “Of course, darling.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you recognize any of these, it's because they've been posted to tumblr before. If you don't, it's because it was probably posted to tumblr like, six years ago.  
> I can add more chapters (especially as I continue to clear out my WIPs), so subscribe if you want.


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